


Assassin Archer Bros For Hire

by WhoStarLocked



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Clint Barton's Farm, I Don't Even Know, I'm Bad At Tagging, No Plot/Plotless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 22:12:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15128876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoStarLocked/pseuds/WhoStarLocked
Summary: Clint has a nice life, his time split between the avengers in New York and his secret farm in Iowa. Then Barney is Barney and it turns out a hell of a lot more people know about the farm than Clint realized. (This summary is kinda sucky).





	Assassin Archer Bros For Hire

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of a throwaway fic idea that's been swimming in my head for a while now. It came from a conversation with friends about how much better AoU would be if it was Barney at the farm and not Laura and the kids. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

Clint Barton, aka Hawkeye, aka badass-ass-kicking SHIELD agent, aka avenger had two ways he liked to live.

                 1) Somewhere hectic and bustling, where motion never ceased around him; where danger may strike at any second and he’d be expected to haul ass and kick butt.

                 2) Somewhere completely tranquil, where the only sound he could hear was the whisper of breezes through long grass, where, on a bright day, he could see for miles, and he would never lay eyes on another person.

 

He’d done pretty well on securing those two environments, if he said so himself. Avengers’ Tower (because the damn name change stuck after Stark announced it in public) in New York was perfect for when he need every distraction the world had to offer, and when he wanted his own space, where he could be him, have no responsibilities and let the world drift by him, he had his own little haven on his farm.

Well, Barney’s farm, technically, but technically Barney was still dead so he could suck it, in Clint’s opinion.

The guys on the team were generally quite understanding. Clint thought perhaps that a lot of them craved the same thing, they just didn’t want to admit it. Which was fine by him. He’d sneak off for a couple of weeks at a time, and it would be perfect.

Barney would cook for him when he landed, let him decompress as they ate. Clint would fill him in on the more hilarious stories from the avengers, then they’d walk Lucky until the mutt was panting, then share a beer over a carefully constructed fire and just catch up. Most nights, Clint ended up out there until the early morning hours, just taking in the stars.

The view really was breath-taking, and was one of the things he missed most when he inevitably dragged himself back to the hustle and bustle of the city. Another thing – aside from the man himself – was Barney’s stupid ideas. They were usually meant as a joke, and usually they stayed that way. But they didn’t always. (Not that Clint had known that in the beginning.)

* * *

Clint was washing plates in the kitchen when Barney stormed in, looking pissed and miserable and angry in a way that made Clint pause as he considered his brother who just stood in the doorway, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“I’m fucking bored!” He snapped when Clint tilted his head in question.

With that, Clint discreetly rolled his eyes as he continued washing up their lunch stuff.

“Why don’t you get a job then?” He asked.

“Uh, hello?” Barney replied, voice dripping with condescension. “I’m meant to be fucking dead!”

“No one would even realise it, Barney, I told’ya, I got SHIELD to take care of that shit years ago.”

Barney huffed and folded his arms.

“What would I do?”

Clint shrugged. “You’re the one saying you’re bored, what do you wanna do?”  He sighed internally as Barney huffed again.

“I don’t fucking know.” He moaned, anger suddenly slipping away until only the itch to be doing something remained. Clint did empathise, he knew how it felt.

“Well, what are you good at?” Look at me, being the level-headed one for a change, he thought to himself. A wry grin tugged at his features.

“Shooting people, same as you.”

“Well, that’s not a career you’re going back to. It’s gotten you killed once already.” Clint said jokingly, focusing on the oven tray he was scrubbing clean.

“Ha ha.” Barney replied scathingly.

After a few more minutes of brooding and watching Clint clean, he got up and left again.

A few hours later, Barney reappeared while Clint was watching TV and flopped down next to him.

“I put up a sign at the end of the drive.” He said, eyes fixed on the TV. Clint didn’t answer, just turned to regard him, one eyebrow raised, as he took a sip of his beer.

“Assassin Archer Bros For Hire.”

Clint choked on his drink.

“You did _what_?” He yelled. “You’re taking that down right now! Are you _trying_ to advertise who lives here? For fuck’s sake Barney! Do you _even realise_ the trouble I went to with SHIELD to get you _out_ of the shit? Now you wanna _advertise_ as an _assassin!_ Fucking hell!” Clint paused, glaring at his brother.

Barney merely shrugged and leaned down to pet Lucky.

“I mean it, Barney. Take it down.”

* * *

Clint’s life continued. He was either in New York with the Avengers, or he was in Iowa with Barney. Years passed and Barney never got a job, but he’d stopped complaining. He’d taken to renovating the house, one room at a time. The whole mess with Ultron happened. Clint’s team found out about his dead brother who was, in fact, alive and living on Clint’s little-known-about retreat farm.

Life still continued the way it always had.

* * *

An insistent buzzing dragged Clint from sleep and he cursed as he fumbled for his phone. He’d only landed at the farm at about midnight, and he and Barney had been up until around four thirty. He cursed even more when he finally located his phone to see that it was only six now, and that it was Steve calling him.

He thumbed over the accept button and stifled a yawn as he lifted the phone.

“Whaddaya want?” He drawled, still way too sleepy to really be dealing with anything.

“Hey, sorry it’s so early. I was uh, gonna ask a favour.” Steve at least had the decency to sound apologetic.

Clint yawned. “What.” He repeated when Steve didn’t continue.

“Tony’s driving me up the damn walls at the minute, and I could really use a break before one of us says or does something we regret.”

And wow, yeah, cap sounded angry. There was silence for a moment before Clint caught up with the implications of Steve’s story.

“Oh.” He yawned yet again as he flopped back into his pillows. “Sure, though you’ll need to bring some food with you, we don’t have enough for your metabolism. Are you driving?” He rambled, his brain already mostly switching off again. Steve mumbled an affirmative.

“S’fine. Let me know when you’re about half an hour away, and I’ll come wait by the drive. It’s not the most obvious turning.”

After confirming that he was setting off then, Steve hung up, and Clint let his eyes slide shut again.

* * *

When Steve rang at a later, acceptable time, Clint set out to walk the mile down to the end of the farm’s driveway. The walk was pleasant enough, but the sight he was greeted by was not so great.

There were more than a few cars pulled up on the verge down the road, way more than there should be for the middle of Iowa. People were milling around, some talking, some eating, almost all of them with phones or cameras. Clint was suddenly itching for a weapon. What the hell was going on?

“Hey! What the hell is going on here?” Clint yelled as he neared most of the people. _Families_ , he belatedly realised.  “What are you all doing on my property?” Because they were (technically) on his property.

Almost every person turned towards him. The silence was awkward and deafening and Clint was more than slightly unnerved.

Suddenly, there was an excited squeal, and a kid ran forwards, pointing a camera at him and no doubt recording already.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! You’re Hawkeye! The sign’s not a joke!” They yelled pointing between Clint and a wooden signpost that he’d never seen before.

“What- no- I’m not- What sign?” Clint stuttered. He turned and walked towards it; most of the people got out of his way, though almost all of them were grabbing pictures or videos already.

As Clint read the sign, he thought back to a mostly ordinary night from two years ago.

In peeling red paint, the home-made sign shamelessly declared in block capitals:

ASSASSIN ARCHER BROS FOR HIRE

ENQUIRE WITHIN

Clint swore as he turned back to the people all gathered around him. He raised his hands, trying to stay calm.

“Okay no, this sign means nothing, I’m not Hawkeye, you are mistak-”

“Clint?” A voice broke through the hubbub and everyone turned to look at the newcomer.

The crowd of people suddenly became crazed as the realisation that the new guy on the motorcycle was none other than Captain America hit them all, and Clint swore under his breath as he face-palmed. Hard.

* * *

_EXCLUSIVE:_

_Interview with Hawkeye regarding Roadside Attraction ‘Advert’ Outside his Home_

_Reporter: So, tell us about this house, do you live there at all times when the avengers don’t have a mission?_

_Hawkeye: No, I go there when I need a break from the city._

_R: So does anyone live there on a regular basis?_

_H: Yeah, my brother lives there_

_R: You’ve said in the past that you had no living family_

_H: Well, he didn’t wanna have the press tracking him down and interrupting his life. He wanted the privacy, which is understandable._

_R: So why the sign?_

_H: [Sighs] There was a stint where he wanted a job away from the farm. He put it up then. It was a joke. I thought he’d taken it down._

_R: So, obviously we’ve heard about your… past, before. Is this sign true?_

_H: [Laughs] Nah, my brother ain’t gonna kill anyone._

_R: I’m glad to hear that!_

_H: [Laughs]_

_R: So is it true you had no idea about this sign?_

_H: Yeah, like I said. I thought he’d taken it down years ago. I usually take a back road to get to the place when I visit, so I don’t pass that driveway. I had no clue that it was this big thing!_

_R: So, this sign, that claims ‘archer assassin bros for hire’, had in the meantime become this huge roadside attraction, as people like to come and decide whether it was meant to be serious or not, and you didn’t even know it was there?_

_H: Right, had no idea until I went down that day and saw everyone taking pictures._

_R: And you’d gone down to meet Captain America. What was he doing at your house?_

_H: He’d come to visit. You know Cap, he’s got that kinda old-fashioned approach, he likes to look out for his team, make sure we’re all good. He’d just come out to catch up ‘s all._

_R: Thank you Hawkeye._

_H: Yeah, no problem._

_R: Maybe check your property border more often._

_H: [Laughs] I’ll try._

 

The newspaper cutting ended up framed, a copy in the tower as well as at the farm. Clint smiled at it whenever it caught his eye. Not that he’d ever admit it.

 

 

 

 

End.

 


End file.
